Hard Fought
by BleedingHearts101
Summary: some fights are tougher than others, some are damn near impossible, love is always worth the fight...  rated M just to be safe


**Enjoy…**

(Logan's POV)

I've seen the cuts, I've seen the scars. I've smelled the iron of sweet blood mixed with the saltiness of bitter tears. We're slowly killing him, I include myself in that because I haven't stood beside him and protected him like I should have. But I've let this crap go on long enough. The kid needs somebody, I'm gonna be that somebody, I wanna be that somebody. They don't see Remy like I do, they don't see the scared little boy desperately trying to be a brave man; struggling everyday not to loose it. They don't see how hurt and lonely he really is, they don't see how deeply he was wounded when that damned girl left him on the ice to die.

I'm one of few people that know he's an empath, one of very few people he trusted with the knowledge and the stories he's related when he lost control of the same power as a child on the streets of new Orleans. I was the only one he could vent to emotionally that wouldn't try to jump his bones when the charm became too much to handle. The nights we'd lock ourselves away in the boat house, far enough away form the mansion that no one would feel the effects when he'd finally trust me enough to completely drop his shields and cried in my arms when the memories of beatings and rapes, pain and abuse overwhelmed him. Or after when he'd fall asleep completely exhausted and still cradled in my arms looking far too young to bare the scars of such a hard life.

I know a thing or two about nightmares and the nightmares that that kid has are something else. I've never seen someone so lost in my entire life and that's been a long damn time, but the look in his eyes when I'm finally able to rouse him from his own personal hell is heart breaking. I've spent a lot of nights sitting up with him after such incidents.

When he first came here, almost five years ago now my first impression of the kid was cold, arrogant, a cock sure little punk and he sure looked good doing it. He drank, cursed, played cards, and could piss off Cyke faster than anyone I ever meet, we were drinking buddies almost instantly and when the real Remy started to show through, we became friends. His trust had been shattered, he didn't like talking about his past and I respected that but I also let him know it was safe to come to me no matter what and I wouldn't judge, anything that happened between us stayed between us. There'd be a few times right there in the beginning when the real Remy would show through and not the oh so confident Gambit. One tale tell sign, that long auburn hair would fall over his eyes, trying to hide right out in public, usually he'd have to be piss ass drunk; but I think that's when I fell for him. I was instantly addicted the first time I saw those red and black eyes, the most unique, amazing, beautiful eyes I've ever had the pleasure of gazing into. His emotions showed like a mirror through them, that was the second reason for the dark sunglasses, the first being he's incredibly light sensitive.

Anyway…the kid, as we speak, is out there hold up in the boat house. It's half sleeting/snowing and cold as fuck…not that that bothers me but after the events of Antarctica Remy is a different story. He gets cold easily nowadays. That's my excuse going out there this time of night, it's just after ten, just taking my boy, yes I said mine, a few warm things one of which is a thick wool sweater of mine that he always favored. Borrowed it from my closet on more than one occasion, that boy is southern breed, New York winters were tough on him from the beginning. I don't know why he didn't just keep it, it's not like I wear it or even need it, not with my healing factor-but that's Remy for ya. I know he's a thief, one of the best in the world; he'd sneak in my room grab whatever he came after (usually the sweater) and not disturb anything else. Of course I knew when he came and went, what the hell good are heightened senses if ya don't use um. A few days later I'd recognize that spicy scent unique to Lebeau only to find that same sweater washed and hung in the closet. Remy is one of few people I trust completely.

I half way run to the boat house trying not to get soaked. Thankfully the damned things got a covered porch, courtesy of yours truly. I can see the low light of lit candles through the sheer curtains and smell the wood smoke from the fireplace. I rap my knuckles on the wooden door a couple times, wait a moment or two before I pick up the sound of shuffling feet, the click of the door lock then Remy's face appears before mine. The kid looks horrible, exhausted, drained. I flash him a small genuine smile he hesitantly returns the gesture and opens the door wider allowing me to enter. He's hiding behind his curtain of hair, looking utterly touchable in the candle light. I can't help but notice the two black duffels sitting just inside the door, the kid's about ready to bolt but I don't say anything, not yet anyway.

He spies the bundle in my arms, the smile disappears almost as soon as it appears, he recognizes the off white of my/his favorite sweater or perhaps it's the stripes of the Hudson Bay wool blanket he recognized off the end of my own bed. That and I tucked a pack of his favorite clove cigarettes in my jacket pocket. I smell stale smoke of cigarettes in here, not the brand he usually smokes but something cheap-Remy never bought/stole anything cheap.

"What you doin' here Logan?" the admission is barely above a whisper but he knows I hear him perfectly well.

"Thought you might need something a little warmer kid."

Remy turned his back to me, shuffling back towards the living room, I take it as an invitation to follow. He slumps into an easy chair pushed close to the blazing fire wrapped in the comforter from the bed upstairs, hiding beneath the folds he doesn't make eye contact. The lights low enough in here he's forgone his shades.

"What you want Logan?" the question is muffled but still catches me off guard.

"Nothing Kid." I answer truthfully.

His eyes meet mine if only for a moment.

"Everything has a price."

I almost didn't catch the words and the finality of it angers me but I gotta keep my emotions in check around him.

"I've never asked you for anything." The words come out a little more gruffer than I wanted but they do the trick of catching his attention.

He pulls his knees up, looks at me over folded arms,

"Non, the only one."

The link we share is vibrating in the back of my mind-hurt, sad, lonely… I can't help but think I can take that all away and it's either now or never that I tell him.

"I don't want ya to go Remy."

"Wh…" He easily covers his surprise.

"Why?"

I let my eyes meet his, "Because I love ya."

The words slip out so easily, makes me wonder why I hadn't said it sooner. He casts his eyes down, looking anywhere but me,

"Nobody loves me…"

I take the chance and move closer, on my knees in front of his chair.

"I do and I don't think I could stay here if ya leave."

"'De need you."

"And I need you Darlin'"

I reach for his hand, find his fingers cold to the touch. He's been hurt too many times I don't know if he'll allow me to get closer. My fingers gently close around the his hand lightly brushing my thumb across his own. His breath hitches, probably waiting for the blow he's been dealt so many times before. He's still watching me, that's a good sign, he hasn't turned away yet. So many times he's been hurt and so many times his heart's been ripped to shreds but he always seems to find room for one more. One more heartache, one more betrayal…one more…

Thank you for reading, review if you want…

Should I leave well enough alone or add another chapter?


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